The Devil with the Porcelain Face
by Onrush
Summary: The Picture of Dorian Gray // Dorian/Alan // How has Dorian got Alan in the palm of his hand? What really happened between them in days passed?


It was true. When Dorian Gray entered a room, it hushed. There were some whispers, some people left and others were oblivious to the aura of danger that clung to him. Some people, like in all groups, acted as the minority. These people had heard the rumours and didn't care much for other people's tainted reputation. Alan Campbell fell into this minority. He had sworn a long time ago that he wouldn't believe rumours about those he hadn't met at least once; he would remain indifferent as he was to the gore his eyes beheld upon the medical table in the lab. He hadn't known them, what did it matter?

But this was the day he was to met the infamous Dorian Gray, and he wasn't even aware. Dorian Gray passed him and brushed against his body to a degree that was far too uncomfortable for Alan.

"Excuse me, would you mind asking me to move before pushing past in such a vulgar manner." He spoke in his usual cold tone. Dorian turned his face to this other man, his blue eyes fixing him to the spot. Alan found he couldn't look at anything else but his eyes. They entranced him. One rumour was correct about the blonde man with boyish youth, he was indescribably beautiful. Alan's attention was drawn from his eyes to his rose-tinted lips as he spoke.

"I'm terribly sorry. Do I know you?" Dorian didn't move back and they still were stood close, but Alan wasn't sure if he minded too much now, the party was awfully busy as it was. Mr Gray held out his hand and Alan took it. "Dorian Gray, and you are?" He found his usual calm demeanour somewhat broken by the blonde man's beauty. He was infatuated with his charming looks, even his hand in his felt soft like a girl's. Campbell was never this taken by works of art, but this one, that spoke and smiled, it caught him and he couldn't shake it off. He didn't want to.

"Alan Campbell." His voice wasn't as strong as it usually was, but to this Gray smiled again. His lips were perfect petals around his marvellously white teeth.

"You are a scientist, aren't you? I've heard your name in good company." From what Alan knew from Dorian's rumours, he seldom shared 'good company'.

"Oh, that is correct." He answered, ashamed slightly as his lack of skill at holding an interesting conversation. It was odd, but he felt like he never wanted to lose Dorian's interest, he never wanted him to go away. This strange possessiveness scared him. Alan had never felt this connection before, rather he usually wished people would break conversations with him and leave him to watch or do other things. He knew why he often spent time down at the lab. It was because the people there were cold and dead. He wasn't required to be polite around them. He didn't have to feign interest about their busy lives and the people they met.

"Why don't you come back to my house, only for a while, I believe I have a book in the library that you would like." This critical sentence followed their conversation that had lasted about fifteen minutes. Alan was pleased to escape the busying room in which more people seemed to be flooding into. Or at least, that was what he told himself. He agreed and they began to walk out in tandem.

It wasn't long before Dorian lead Alan into the house. Dorian told his servant to go to bed after he had brought out a tray of drinks for two men. Alan looked around the library but didn't see any such book that would interest him. Dorian's bookcases were decorated with many books about beauty, freedom and romance. The type of book that made Alan yawn and imagine the many other practical things he could do with his time. Dorian on the other hand, seemed to have completely forgotten about the reason he had invited Alan back here. He offered the man a tumbler with something alcoholic but he refused. Alan looked over at Dorian, lay on the sofa like he wasn't even there. Inside this house, Mr Gray had forgotten how to act in front of acquaintances. Alan didn't know what to do with himself.

"Dorian, I think I should go. It is getting late." Dorian got up like a shot and stood close to him. He put his hand on his arm and lent closer.

"But you don't want to go, surely. You have only just got here." Alan looked at the hand on his arm and couldn't form the words he wanted. "If you leave now, you have wasted a night." Alan looked to Dorian's eyes, held so handsomely in his face like two jewels.

"You said you had a book for me." Dorian laughed, flashing his marvellous smile. Alan was awash with nerves. Why couldn't he keep so still and calm around his insolently charming young man?

"I lied." Dorian moved his hand from Alan's arm to his cheek and stroked it tenderly. Alan's face flushed deep red and he moved back from Dorian. "I know you don't want to go." His face bent down to floor and he knew that Dorian was right. He didn't want to go, not now. He was dominated by this strange curiosity and fascination towards the youthful man's actions. Could he spare some romance in his life? Could he risk it being with a man, and of all people, such a man as Dorian Gray, whose entire reputation was hanging by a thread and cloaked with mystery. "Look at me." Dorian ordered and Alan obeyed like a faithful dog.

Alan's lips were drawn to Dorian's as if by some unearthly power contained within the man. They kissed and Dorian pulled Alan back to the sofa where he was lay before, until Alan was on top of him, still kissing like the secret lovers they had become. Alan pulled back from Dorian to breathe and as he did this, his brain and morals came back to him like a returning wave on the seashore. Everything about this picture was wrong. If they were found out, everything would be over for him. He doubted very much that it would make a big difference to Dorian Gray. It would be just another page in his growing book of rumours, that is, if they were not prosecuted.

"Why did you stop?" Dorian asked, his face flushed and drugged by passion. Alan got up from Dorian's lap and straightened out his shirt and neck tie.

"It is late." He said as he turned towards the door. Dorian's voice, calm and silky, stopped him.

"What does that matter? Stay here for tonight. Stay here and warm me. I know you want to. I have seen the way your eyes glance over me, the way you trace my lips and yearn for me to touch you. Let me please you, Alan."

He felt Dorian's hands creep over his shoulders and down his chest. He shuddered and knew he had lost the fight. When temptation was stood so close, body to body like this, when he could feel Dorian's lust radiating from him like warmth, he could not resist it, not now. The devil had claimed him for the night.

He turned to Dorian, grabbed his wrists and kissed him. His lips were warm and welcoming and made him push the man back to the sofa. He stroked Dorian's gently curling blonde hair and he looked down at him. How could the face of an angel contain the soul of a demon?

Dorian caught Alan's neck and pulled him down so that he could nibble at the skin. This confused Alan but caused him to moan softly as he felt Dorian's rose lips pull and caress him. Alan unbuttoned Dorian's clothes slowly and nervously as if he didn't know what to expect to see underneath. He wondered if some of the secrets that Dorian hoarded were written there, as his sins were not displayed on his face. Alan knew that this sin, his own sin would stain his face. He wouldn't be able to cling onto his youth as Dorian had.

Before Alan had finished removing Dorian's shirt, the younger man began feeling his thigh. He felt so sensitive, so unused to this feeling, so virginal underneath Dorian's devilishly beautiful fingertips. His hand traced softly from his thigh to his crotch and a jolt of morality stuck Alan once more, yet this time he suppressed it. He ignored the feeling of sin that gave the bite to every touch of pleasure.

As if Dorian had looked into his mind, he whispered into Alan's ear with a sharp edge of cruelty that seemed to linger about his selfish nature. "No one has to know about this if you don't tell them. By virtue I never tell of anything that happens in my house." Alan placed a stern hand on Dorian's chest.

"Virtue?" He bit the word. "You say this will remain a secret, yet everyone knows that you are a sinful creature, Dorian Gray. You are trusted by no one and no one should trust you." Dorian laughed to soften the blow of Alan's words.

"Think about it, my dear Alan. You do not have much of a choice, do you?" Alan bit his cheek and sucked up the remainder of his pride. He spoke slowly, his deep voice shook.

"You have walked into my life and made it overcomplicated, as you have done to possibly many others. Now you hold me in the palm of your hand like a pawn and I can't escape, can I?" Dorian shook his head.

"Tarnish your name, or live with the guilt of loving me, for you do, don't you?" Alan's eyes widened.

"God, no! I could never love such a beast." To this Dorian grinned, a glint of lust-ridden evil riding high on his words.

"But you could make love to such a beast?" Alan shivered and cursed himself for wanting it so. There was a period of silence, broken by Dorian's sensual lips lingering close to his crotch. Alan let out a shuddering sigh.

"Yes... I guess I could." He trailed his fingers through Dorian's golden locks. How soft and fine every detail of his being was. Dorian Gray had awoken part of him that was ignorant and indifferent to beauty. So bestial was his desires, that they seemed to be placed there from birth, and meeting Mr Gray had killed him and made him reborn.

After tonight, after this sin, Alan would forget Dorian and never see him again. He would avoid him at all costs and step out of his life. He would take to the life of a hermit in his lab, and not attend fanciful parties that made him uncomfortable and paranoid. This was the only romance he would fall victim to, but he would not let it rule him. Alan Campbell was not one for ownership.

Alan realised why so many feared Dorian Gray. Why so many left rooms when he entered. Why so many spoke of his name in hushed whispers like that of a ghost story amongst children. Dorian Gray hoarded souls of people to replace his own lost soul. He mixed their simple lives with ideas of debauchery and acts of sin, and how? His beauty sucked the goodness from them. He was an animal. He was a destructive force with a porcelain face.


End file.
